


You And Me Against The World

by semele



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-26 16:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/pseuds/semele
Summary: Victorian AU. Bellamy Blake is an up and coming lawyer, and despite his humble background, it's going pretty well for him. He has some good clients, including a recent widow, Mrs Reyes, whom he advises on financial matters.Things become more complicated when Mrs Reyes' daughter Raven finds herself disgraced after a failed elopement with one Finn Collins.





	1. Elopement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/gifts).



> So what happened was, Growlery talked to me for 5 minutes about a historical AU she was craving, and then here I was, drafting a multichapter in my little notebook. Whoops?
> 
> Fair warning, this is pure id writing, and I don't exactly know what I'm doing (I mean, I do for an extent, but not as much as I normally would). Rated Explicit because, knowing me, I will eventually do something to warrant the rating, and it's not fair to suddenly change the game for people who might not want to read about sex.
> 
> All this story is self-indulgence, and I'll do my best to update it often, but also life happens, and we all have to live with that. Feel free to scream at me in comments, and geek out about how some historical romance is always good for the soul.

On some level, Bellamy was expecting a very calm day. His luck, of course, didn’t quite work out that way.

It’s not that things are exceptionally busy, because he’s certainly seen so much worse during his few years as an up and coming solicitor. But there was just something in the air; something tense and quiet, like on that day in Oxford when he showed up for class with dripping holes in his shoes, attracting the stares of his richer classmates. It’s not that anyone shouted anything, or pointed it out openly, but somehow by the end of the day, it was common knowledge everywhere, not that the state of his finances was ever a secret. It’s true that children are cruel, and Bellamy learned that fact younger than he’d necessarily like to, but what no one ever tells you is how neat and easy it is for most people to carry this trait with them into adulthood.

Funny how similar that moment from Oxford was to how, today, Bellamy himself learns that that last night, Miss Raven Reyes tried and failed to elope with Mr Finn Collins.

He pieces the story together from hints and whispers, a word here and there, and when, after lunch, Mrs Reyes sends him a note asking for an urgent meeting, he takes it as confirmation that the rumors are true. People don’t just randomly ask to see their family lawyer immediately. Clearly there must be something to the tales that hum somewhere under the skin of his office.

The Reyes house is perfectly gloomy when Bellamy gets there, not that it’s ever been particularly cheerful. Mr Reyes was a severe old man, and now his widow doesn’t seem capable of making anyone happy, unless you’re counting herself. Today even the old butler, who normally has a little bit of a smile for at least some visitors, looks like he just buried his favorite cat, and Bellamy would laugh at the amount of melodrama involved in this apparent looming scandal, if he didn’t know just how life and death it was. Miss Reyes has a good fortune, yes, but not good enough to compensate for an indiscretion of this magnitude. If she really did elope with someone and came back unmarried, she will likely be shunned for the rest of her life.

The afternoon meeting turns out to be long and exhausting; an endless battle of vague statements and ostensibly hypothetical questions that aren’t fooling him at the slightest. 

“Mrs Reyes, with all due respect,” he snaps way over an hour into the barrage of questions. “If you’d like my legal advice, you will need to give me facts.”

Not that she listens to a word he says.

He ends up going home quiet and frustrated, with some weird thoughts stuck somewhere at the back of his head. He doesn’t even know the girl, he reminds himself sternly, and if he is going to help her in any way, he will only do it as much as he is paid to. He’s only seen Raven Reyes a handful of times, and spoken to her even less. So what if he is fond of her, and irrationally so, given how little he knows her? She is sharp and bright, yes, and deserves better than being betrayed after she risked everything for someone, but it’s not like Bellamy is in the position to fix anything for her. 

(The one time he spoke to her, really spoke to her, was in a dingy hall she had no business visiting, and they talked with a whole crowd of people between them, sharing thoughts and ideas across the room. She must’ve snuck out of the house; there is no way her mother would’ve let her come unaccompanied to listen to a lecture given by a known socialist, but if he was surprised to see her there, then her face betrayed all the shock in the world when she recognized him. It’s one thing to come from nothing into a prestigious law school, and quite another to carelessly let his roots show.

He meant to intercept her after the lecture; assure her of his discretion, congratulate her on brilliant questions, and offer to escort her home, but by the time he made it from his far corner of the hall, Miss Reyes was long gone, and not interested at the slightest in letting him play the knight to her distressed damsel. 

If he had any brains at all, he would remember that now, and take it as a lesson for the upcoming weeks.)

It’s not like he is going to marry her himself.

***

He tries not to think about her the next day, when the gossip column picks up on the scandal with merciless accuracy. They were gone for three days, Miss Reyes and her young lover, but they never met up halfway as they had promised, and she came back on her own, no wedding ring and heaps of road dust on her beautiful dress. Money or not, only a complete and utter villain would marry her now.

And, Bellamy tells himself sternly, this is none of his business. He is curious, of course, being the family’s solicitor, but that’s it. There is nothing here that he can fix, even if the injustice of the whole thing grates him somewhere deep down, in the part of his heart he usually takes care not to show. Finn Collins, his fellow lawyer tells him in passing, was seen at his aunt’s tea party this afternoon, sheepish but unscathed, and there is talk in Town that once the scandal dies down, he will be able to get a bigger prize than tainted blue blood of Raven Reyes, whose mother might be noble, but her father’s fortune still comes from trade.

It takes Mrs Reyes a few more days to actually come to Bellamy with specific, legal questions about forcing Finn Collins to honor his promise, and that’s when the real work starts.

He never sees Miss Reyes herself during those meetings, which makes sense, in a way. Her reputation is at stake, so the less she sees men, even in her mother’s respectable company, the better. Some days, Bellamy thinks he sees her lurking at the window, watching him like a hawk as he approaches her front door, and greeting him with a stare full of anger and malice, but he can’t be sure. He doesn’t know her, he reminds himself, and he likely never will.

Not that it matters, right? The mother is the one paying, not the girl.

***

When he formally meets Finn Collins a week after the failed elopement, Bellamy is so tired of circular arguments he feels like he’s been working on this case for months.

They sit down in a club Bellamy would never have been admitted into otherwise, and just entering the room makes him look over his shoulder, expecting sniggers and raised eyebrows; just watch, watch the cheeky upstart trying to act like he belongs here. He wonders if someone is going to ostensibly call for a servant to sweep the floor right after he leaves.

At least he never ruined a girl’s reputation only to leave her stranded at the altar just because his mother threatened she’d cut off his funds if he went through with the marriage, but that’s neither here nor there. He should be nice to Finn Collins, really. If he does well enough, he might be able to secure a rich new client, so he braces himself, and tries to be on his best behavior. 

“Obviously time is of utmost importance,” he explains once he finds himself at the Reyes household early next morning. Uncharacteristically, he gets to speak to both mother and daughter this time, the gravity of his news clearly warranting a larger audience, and if he has some trouble focusing on his notes, his gaze shifting involuntarily towards Miss Reyes in her somber, brown dress, he tries to not think of it at all.

“You’ve already waited too long, and some of the damage is done, but we can reverse that if we act quickly. Mr Collins’ biggest worry is obviously his family, but if you can…”

“We will do anything it takes,” says Mrs Reyes sternly, her tone just a little off; a little too loaded, as if she wasn’t speaking to Bellamy at all.

He doesn’t know what devil tempts him to turn his head right in this moment, and look square at the girl, just like he did in that shady hall months and months ago.

“That won’t be necessary,” she says stiffly, in a voice sounding like nothing he remembers from that one heated discussion they had. “There will be no marriage. If he has to be convinced by a lawyer, I have no desire to marry him at all. I apologize for wasting your time, Mr Blake.”

Well. That changes things.


	2. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven packs up her trousseau the morning after she returns to London, and that’s the end to the whole story as far as she is concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proceed with care -- this chapter contains Raven's mother being emotionally abusive towards her.
> 
> Shout-out to Andrea, who used some kind of magic to make me sit down and actually write this tonight! Happy birthday, loser!

Raven packs up her trousseau the morning after she returns to London, and that’s the end to the whole story as far as she is concerned.

It’s not like she needed to get married. Her mother would probably say otherwise, but in Raven’s head, the marriage was a wish rather than a necessity; a bid for something better and brighter, and so much warmer than her father’s old house. Of course, things didn’t quite work out that way.

What’s most strange here is that Finn was a friend, and has always been. Being jilted is one thing, but being jilted by Finn Collins is such a wild idea it feels almost impossible; like being bitten by your beloved dog, getting a blister from your oldest pair of comfortable slippers. Something must’ve happened, Raven reasons in the four walls of her bedroom. Surely something must’ve happened.

Then it turns out that the ‘something’ was money, and Raven ends up wanting to set her trousseau on fire.

Her mother is furious with her in ways that Raven learned to ignore ages ago, and for the first few days, her anger doesn’t even penetrate Raven’s defenses. So what if she is raving about family and duty and ruin? So what, even if she brought in that quiet, quick lawyer who made problems disappear in the past? It’s not going to work this time, whatever they are plotting. What’s done is done, and that’s it. Raven doesn’t need to be saved.

It’s not until a week later that her mother, voice all smooth and sleek, explains to Raven exactly how her wedding to Finn is going to come to be.

It doesn’t really matter what Raven says, and in so many ways, this realization is both shocking and uncomfortably familiar, as if it’s been there her whole life, silently filling it with dread. They can’t make her, of course. Wedding vows made under duress aren’t valid, but after what she did, who will ever believe that she had a sudden change of heart? It doesn’t matter what she says in front of the lawyer, or how he freezes when he hears her protest, as if she’d brought him to a line he isn’t willing to cross. If the young lawyer turns out to be squeamish, her mother will just find them a new one. 

There are words falling around in every direction now, ugly and harsh, nothing that would ever be spoken in polite company, and it’s not exactly new for Raven’s mother to call her names, but something is different this time. Now, for the first time in years, the looming promise of marriage makes Raven find her thick skin punctured by fear, and suddenly every insult feels like a threat. 

It’s not that her mother is so moral, of course. It’s just that she finally got the excuse to reign her rebellious daughter in. So in the end, Raven does what Raven does best. When she can’t bear the pressure anymore, she puts on a coarse dress, begs Sinclair to keep quiet, and disappears into the streets of London.

Raven isn’t naive enough to think that she can go whenever she wants, but there is freedom to be found in the streets if only you look in the right places. She knows London is dangerous, especially for a girl like her, but she also knows that a girl like her can get away with a lot, if only she has enough nerve.

Her outfit is just severe enough that she can pass as a teacher, and she uses that shamelessly, keeping close to bookshops and libraries. She can’t go far, not with her leg, but it doesn’t matter. When mother is out for her afternoon visits, she is out way into the evening. Raven has all of the afternoon at her disposal, and it’s the first good thing to happen to her in days – wide, busy streets where no one knows her name, or cares a lick about her and her reputation. It’s not that the strangers think well of her, you see. What matters the most, after her mother’s heavy, judgemental gaze, is that they don’t think of her at all.

She ends up in a coffee house, one of her favorites from the simpler days of last month, and out of sheer habit, she peeks at every corner before she takes her seat, wary of familiar faces that could ruin her pleasure in minutes. Not that it’s likely, not here. None of her mother’s fancy friends would dignify this shop with as much as a look, let alone their money. Not with socialists, anarchists, and other lowly figures arguing loudly in every corner.

Once she is happy that she is in the comforting company of strangers, Raven orders herself a coffee, then finds a small table that lets her watch without being seen; maybe even pick up an abandoned newspaper from a nearby chair, and lose herself for a moment in a world so far removed from her own it might as well be another continent. She doesn’t want to disturb, and doesn’t fool herself that she can make a change, no matter how modern and lofty her ideas are. Definitely not today. She just wants to rest.

When she hears someone say her name, it feels like a slap in the face.

It takes her a moment to match the voice with a man, then another one to place him, when he was the last person she expected to see today.

“Mr Blake?” she tries weakly, then swallows her fear. She isn’t scared of him, she reminds herself. She is scared of a lot more things than she was a month ago, but she still isn’t scared of one Bellamy Blake. She shouldn’t even be shocked. It’s not like this is the first time she runs into him in a place like this. Does he still remember that lecture from ages ago, she wonders as he watches him try to reign in his shock and appear composed?

“Miss Reyes, how… Does your…” he stutters, then, to Raven’s surprise, breaks into a grin. “Apologies, Miss Reyes. Of course your mother doesn’t know you’re here. I’m being an idiot. But this is quite fortunate, really. I’ve been hoping to speak to you on your own. Do you mind?”

No, she doesn’t. She is just surprised enough that she doesn’t.

“I thought my mother fired you,” she says bluntly once he takes his seat next to her. She is usually more tactful, yes, but something makes her want to be direct with this man. Take a measure of him, when she isn’t trying to make herself easy for him.

He responds with the kind of smile she’s never seen when she watched him work.

“I’m sure she will, soon enough. I’m stalling her, and she isn’t stupid. But she also keeps finding reasons why I can’t meet with you again, and I really don’t like being manipulated, so here we are.”

This isn’t how he should be speaking about a client, and it would be naive to think he doesn’t know that, or lets his tongue loose out of sheer carelessness. Not in his line of work. Maybe it’s this place getting into both of their heads, Raven thinks. Maybe there is just something about the freedom and the noise, something that makes them step just a little bit out of line.

“So you can do what exactly?” she demands, not pulling her punches. “Sweep in and rescue me?”

He takes a sip of his coffee before answering, as if weighing words. It doesn’t escape her that he is watching her like a hawk.

“Honestly? No idea,” he admits after a moment, then sets his cup on its saucer. “Don’t get me wrong, I do want the money. Your family is a very good customer. But I also like to think that I wouldn’t do absolutely anything for money so… I don’t know. I thought speaking to you would help.”

Deep down, Raven knows that this is mostly a decent thing to say. Knows, even, that most men in his position would be much less generous with her. But it’s been a month, a month of heartbreak and abuse, and it makes resentment bubble up inside her so fast it almost chokes her. He is decent, isn’t he? He even finds it in him to be generous?

Good for him. But she doesn’t feel like being grateful.

“Ah yes,” she says with just enough venom to feel good about how vulgar she is about to get. “Let me unbutton my bodice so I can better cradle your bruised conscience to my bosom.”

He goes silent after that, and the pause is so long it makes Raven falter a little, but she forces herself to hold strong. What’s the worst he can do? Surely it can’t be worse than what she’s already done to herself.

“You are not wrong,” he says in the end, and Raven watches, fascinated, how he fiddles with his coffee cup as if she actually managed to make him a bit nervous. “Apologies, Miss Reyes. Your mother is balancing the books, but the legal matter at hand is yours and yours entirely. What I should be asking is: How would you like me to proceed?”

His words are perfectly polite and humble without sounding meek, and with that, he takes the fight out of Raven in one swoop. There is no point lashing out on this man. It’s not going to right any wrongs, or make her an enemy she can fight more easily than her mother’s coldness or Finn’s indifference. She ran away from home for an afternoon, just to steal this moment of peace. There is no point squandering it on squabbles.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says with a sigh. Maybe if she cuts this nonsense short, she can convince him to give her an overview of recent news, unsanitized edition. “Short of marrying me yourself, I don’t think you can do anything.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, almost a throwaway. She is disgraced and ruined, and no one is more intimately aware of the details than her family’s lawyer. If she asked for his advice, he would have to tell her himself: no decent man would ever marry her.

So why is he looking at her like he just had an epiphany?

“With all due respect, Miss Reyes. But that’s actually quite a brilliant idea.”


	3. Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven Reyes tells him, in no uncertain terms, to come back once he’s grown some brains, and Bellamy can’t exactly fault her for that. Of course they can’t get married. Even after what happened, it would still be a step down for her to associate with the likes of him, and they aren’t intimate enough to say that they’re entering a union motivated by mutual affection. As far as ideas go, this one is completely out of the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, there is a bit more mentioning of Raven's abusive family in this one :(. On the bright side, I think we're done with that for a good while now!

Raven Reyes tells him, in no uncertain terms, to come back once he’s grown some brains, and Bellamy can’t exactly fault her for that. Of course they can’t get married. Even after what happened, it would still be a step down for her to associate with the likes of him, and they aren’t intimate enough to say that they’re entering a union motivated by mutual affection. As far as ideas go, this one is completely out of the question.

And yet for some reason Bellamy can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s not that he is falling with love with her, because how would he, really? They barely know each other, and he isn’t exactly in the business of loving. It’s just that he knows what’s in store for her; knows to expect scorn and pity, and probably a husband who thinks less of her, when she is so much more than most people Bellamy ever met. She is bright, she is sharp, and kind, and curious. If only he had her on his side, they could make the whole Town tremble. If only he could spend some time with her, without her mother’s looming presence, he is sure they would at least become friends.

But he has no such luck, and an upstart like him, no matter how successful, will never be allowed to as much as befriend someone like Miss Reyes, so he buries himself in feverish work, determined not to think about this idea at all.

It goes exactly as well as anyone could have expected, and so after a day of anguish and self-deception, he decides to give following his gut a shot. You see, Bellamy didn’t get where he is in life without learning that a little nerve goes a long way, and all he needs now is some planning. Mrs Reyes finally resumed her social calls, and she does them twice a week like before The Incident, but her daughter stays home like a dirty secret, cooped up and alone. It’s too good a chance to miss.

(What he does miss: Mrs Reyes got quiet in the last week, no urgency left in her, and she stopped asking him to put pressure on Finn Collins. On Tuesday, she had a doctor call at the Reyes house even though no one was sick, and Bellamy was too preoccupied with his ideas to connect the dots properly.)

Mrs Reyes’ calls day is a Friday, and that’s what Bellamy is preparing for on Thursday night, when someone knocks on his door.

“Miss Reyes?”

She looks an absolute fright, and the drab outfit makes it even worse; her dress is dark and muddy at the hem, her hair looks sweaty at the temples, and she is carrying a cane he hasn’t seen on her before, leaning on it heavily as she stands in the hallway, and almost dares him to not let her in. She must’ve ran away from home, and this time, there is no way she did that sneakily.

“I was wondering if that marriage offer is still on the table,” she says defiantly, and only now can he see clearly just how scared she is.

It’s an instinct, really, and one plebeian enough that he will be vaguely embarrassed about later, but here, in the moment, he can’t quite help himself. Gently, like he is inviting her to lean on him, he puts his arm around her shoulders, and starts leading her towards the kitchen, where it’s warm. Where he would never take a lady, no way; but he would take a friend.

What he doesn’t expect: she buckles.

“I asked you a question,” she says stubbornly, and he could swear he can see her heels digging into the carpet. “Are you going to answer, or are you going to act like I have a broken wing or something?”

“Oh, yes, my apologies,” he says without thinking as he drops his arms to his sides, not wanting to force her to go. “Obviously it’s still on the table. But maybe not in the hallway?”

It’s one of the worst jokes he’s ever made, but then: the situation is dire enough to warrant it, and look at that. She gives him such a faint smile he could’ve missed it, but no. It’s definitely there.

“So you’re gonna do what? Sit me down and make me tea so I pour my heart out?”

“After that entrance? I might need one myself.”

She leans on the cane a little heavier after that, as if considering, then looks up. And starts walking towards his kitchen ahead of him, leaving it to him to either catch up, or stay in the hallway, stunned into silence.

***

Truth is, Raven doesn’t really know what answer she expected to hear. 

She isn’t stupid, you see, at least not about this. Not anymore. She is not going to put her future at stake because of some boy with big, sad eyes who showed her a tiny scrap of kindness. She half-expected Mr Blake to say yes, but now that he has, she becomes immediately suspicious of him. Raven Reyes knows better than to make the same mistake twice, and if things were entirely up to her, she would just stay single, and give herself some time to heal her wounds, then come up with a reasonable next step.

Too bad she doesn’t live in the perfect world.

“Why did you say yes?” she asks once she’s seated on one of the kitchen chairs, her cane leaning against the table. It’s a bizarre place to receive guests, but then, she is quite a bizarre guest.

To his credit, Mr Blake looks just a little bit less cocky than how she usually sees him.

“You are a wonderful woman. Why wouldn’t I say yes?”

Well, it’s not like she expected either of them to answer this question honestly.

“I have a condition,” she announces, and it doesn’t escape her notice how absurd it is: her making such a declaration, while he actually puts a kettle on to boil. Doesn’t this man have a housekeeper? “You won’t have power over me. Won’t be able to make decisions for me. I want that in writing.”

She wants to see it; wants to have a piece of paper that assures her, beyond any doubt, that this will never, ever happen to her again. There won’t be a doctor in her drawing room, quizzing her and taking notes, and telling her to calm down in a soft, professional kind of voice. She won’t be told that no, of course, this is nothing, her mother is just concerned for her health. That for now, of course, bed rest should suffice, but if there are any _other symptoms_...

They won’t kill her, she knows. They don’t have to. They will just lock her away, somewhere where she can never shame her family again.

“That’s perfectly reasonable,” says Mr Blake calmly, interrupting her panicked thoughts. “And, ideally, you would have someone else drafting that document, not me. For integrity’s sake. You should find a solicitor on your own, someone who isn’t my friend. But I’m guessing, since you came here so late today, that you don’t exactly have that kind of time on your hands. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“No,” she says flatly, seeing no point in lying. That’s one good thing about this situation she found herself in. No matter how big his eyes or sweet his voice, this particular boy, she will never have to charm.

He takes a moment to consider everything she’s said, distracts himself with checking on the kettle, then on dry tea leaves in a small pot he’s conjured out of nowhere. Look at them now. So perfectly amicable they could be an old married couple.

“Why me?” he asks, his back still to her as he fiddles with the pot. Funny, this kitchen. When he is facing away from her like this, the room does something to his voice, making it sound just a little bit unsure. “I know it feels like the end of the world now, but… You’re still a lady. You could do so much better than a petty solicitor.”

She just shrugs at that, determined to be unladylike, and when he doesn’t react, even though he is looking over his shoulder now, she actually slouches in her chair. Here, see. This is what you are agreeing to take.

“Maybe I got it into my head that I’d make a lord out of you.”

He actually laughs at that, and the sound fills the kitchen like something contagious, something warm and soft and easy, but she can’t get distracted by that. So he is charming. She’s seen people be charming to her before, and it never ends well, not for her. She is trusting him too much as it is, just because he was nice to her once, but she has nowhere else to go, and if she does nothing, something horrible will happen for sure.

“Very well,” he says, and faces her fully this time, his kettle forgotten. “I can tell you’re not going to give me a straight answer, and it’s not like I’m pouring my heart out, either. We both have our reasons. So let’s talk practicalities. Can you go back home after this conversation? Or do you have to stay, then marry me first thing in the morning?”

She welcomes his directness, she really does. It’s not like it’s her place to feel a pang of disappointment when he admits he isn’t baring his soul here, either.

“I don’t want you negotiating this with my mother.”

“Tomorrow morning it is, then,” he concludes, like it’s easy. So beyond easy. She shows up at his front door and demands that he marries her tomorrow – and then he just does?

“I might not have any money,” she says quickly. “I don’t know if I do. My mother… She will make it difficult. Even if I have the right to it, she’ll make sure I don’t see a penny for months and months. You might lose clients over this. She will make sure you pay.”

Now is his turn to shrug, and then – unthinkable – he actually turns away from her again, carefully picks up the hot kettle through a thick towel, and starts pouring it into a pot.

“If that happens, we’ll deal with it. Miss Reyes, I’m… I have no birth, no powerful friends, no connections. Everything I have, I have because I took a gamble, then worked until my fingers were numb. I know I need to marry, and sooner rather than later. I want to marry. I’m tired of being alone. So if I am to marry… Money, connections, opportunities – we can make all of these happen. And I’d rather build a life with someone who knows how to challenge me than with someone who is doing everything to please me. I don’t like people who try to please me. They have a tendency to stab me in the back. You know something about that, don’t you?”

If the last question sounds just a little bit angrier than it should, Raven forces herself not to notice that at all.


	4. Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy spends the night before his wedding in his study, drafting a contract with his fiancee and making damn sure she understands every single word of it. In the morning, he wakes his housekeeper, and leaves Miss Reyes under her care as he sets out to bang on Nathan Miller’s door, then, friend in tow, goes on to bribe his way into obtaining a marriage license. To Nate’s credit, even though Bellamy pulled him away from breakfast before he could finish his coffee, he doesn’t even grumble too much as he leads the way to one of the shadier vicars he knows. How come it’s always him who knows all the shady people?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go now! I hope you enjoy the feelings, because I sure as hell did.

Bellamy spends the night before his wedding in his study, drafting a contract with his fiancee and making damn sure she understands every single word of it. In the morning, he wakes his housekeeper, and leaves Miss Reyes under her care as he sets out to bang on Nathan Miller’s door, then, friend in tow, goes on to bribe his way into obtaining a marriage license. To Nate’s credit, even though Bellamy pulled him away from breakfast before he could finish his coffee, he doesn’t even grumble too much as he leads the way to one of the shadier vicars he knows. How come it’s always him who knows all the shady people?

“Does it really have to be today?” he asks as he adjusts his hat on the way. 

“Do you think she would’ve ran away to me of all people if it didn’t?”

“Can’t really argue with that.”

After that, it’s a few quick words and a very quick purse, all set; the girl is of age, and if the mother chooses to disown her later, well. That’s on her.

When Bellamy comes back home at around noon, Miller in tow, there is already a little bit of gossip in Town about Miss Reyes disappearing again, but, of course, no one suspects the family lawyer of harbouring her. Tomorrow, he suspects, he will have one interesting conversation with his mother-in-law, but for now, he focuses on what’s right in front of him. Inform Miss Reyes that the wedding is at four. Get Miller into his study to have him read the pre-marital contract and spot any last-minute mistakes. Send word to his mother and sister, apologizing for not inviting them to the ceremony. 

By the time he steps into his bedroom at two, he is so tired he can barely stand, but there is still work to do.

Miss Reyes only has the dress she showed up wearing yesterday, and there is no way in hell to get her anything nicer, not without alerting someone to where she is and what she is up to. The dress would’ve been brushed clean by the housekeeper, yes, but it’s still not festive, not by a long shot. There is nothing he can do to make it better – but he can adjust to it. Spare her some embarrassment, if he can’t give her something of beauty.

Bellamy hasn’t really changed much since university, not in body at least, so it doesn’t take long to get out the humble suit he wore as a student, and brush it out with care. In the end, the outfit is clean and sturdy, but not nearly flashy enough for him to wear it to meet a client, or be seen in town. This, here, isn’t a lawyer’s suit. It shows, without a flicker of doubt, who Bellamy really is and where he came from. It will do just well enough.

Before he puts on the suit, though, he decides to wash and shave, and if his hands are shaking a little bit while he mixes the soap, he blames tiredness, nothing else. After all, he spent the whole night trying to write a contract that’s like no document he’s ever seen before, and he knows that if he got anything wrong, consequences could be disastrous. If what they will sign is in any way invalid, Miss Reyes might never trust him again.

And she won’t be Miss Reyes anymore at that point. Will she?

He ends up with a tiny, painful cut on one cheek, right above his jaw line, and it takes him so long to stop the bleeding that he is still tying his cravat as he rushes downstairs, so they can finally make their way to church.

***

The wedding is a quiet, quick affair, preceded by signing their contract in front of a very baffled priest and a very stoic Nate Miller. All through it, Bellamy keeps staring at his bride’s tense, ashen face, and there is nothing at all he can do to make any of this better.

“It’s alright,” he blurts out in a rushed whisper as they turn to face each other, ready for their vows. “Please… I promise it’s going to be alright.”

In response, Miss Reyes squeezes his hand so hard it almost hurts, and he recites his vows while trying to gently rub her knuckles with his thumb, suddenly angry that this is the only comfort he is allowed to give her. 

When it’s her turn to speak, and she has to make her promise to obey him, she meets his gaze with such defiance he prays that he never does anything to warrant her looking at him like this ever again.

All said and done, they are back home by five, and Nathan accompanies them all the way to the door, then leaves with a mysterious little smile, like he is already enjoying all the family drama that’s coming his way next. Oh well. It’s not like Bellamy needs Miller’s unique sense of humor to know that tomorrow will be hell to pay.

But for now, they are home. For now, Bellamy gets to hang his hat and coat in the hallway, then lean against the door, and look at his new wife like he is searching for something in her face.

“Jesus, what a day,” he sighs, and then, out of nowhere, they are both laughing. It’s not a hysterical sound, not loud or overwhelming; it is, quite simply, the laughter of two tired people who are used to not being heard.

“You have blood on your collar,” she points out after a moment, and he automatically touches his cheek, even though it can’t logically still be bleeding.

“I cut myself shaving,” he explains stupidly, then lights up when it earns him another giggle. It’s entirely possible that he did something very foolish today, yes – but, strangely enough, it makes him feel more hopeful than he has in years.

They are in this together now. All they can do is make it.

“Can we skip the formal dinner?” he asks, tilting his head a little, unsure of her answer. They were so focused on contracts and permits that they didn’t really have time to discuss what happens _after_ they get married. “I don’t think we have much of a feast, anyway. The housekeeper has been busy with frantically changing sheets. Can we just eat in the study?”

Yes. Yes, they can.

Trouble is, as soon as they settle there, there isn’t really anything left for Bellamy to do; no contract to write, no license to obtain, no suit, or razor, or letter to take care of. It’s just him and his wife, Jesus Christ, his _wife_ , and they’re going to have to make this work somehow.

“Second thoughts?” she asks him coldly when he doesn’t speak for a long moment, and that’s when he pulls himself together. He might not yet fully understand why he did what he did, but he knows, deep down in his bones, that he will never, ever regret it.

“Not for a second,” he says, then clears his throat and meets her gaze, letting her see his smile. “It’s you and me against the world now. What’s there to change?”

She shrugs, then very purposefully sits in his chair, the one she knows full well is his, since they spent all of last night here, writing and rewriting. Apparently the brief mirth from the hallway is over, now that it’s just them in a small room, with no buffer or anything to keep them busy. Now they get to show who they really are.

So Bellamy pulls up the other chair for himself, right in time for his wife’s other question to hit him.

“What if I say that I don’t want to sleep with you tonight?”

For a second, he wants to shrug as well; wants to say something witty, or sharp, or funny. It’s how things go with him and her, isn’t it? The truth, always the truth, but said with a sting, like it’s a weapon and they are gearing themselves up for counter-attack. 

Except he is at home with his wife now, the very word drilling into his head with all of its weight, and he doesn’t really have any fight left in him. Not if he’s supposed to get up in the morning, and fight for them both to keep afloat.

“No, come on,” he says, with tiredness now clearly showing in his voice. “I know you barely know me, but you know me enough to know I didn’t deserve that question. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to lie my head off and insist that we did if anybody asks, just to make sure your mother can’t get an annulment, but… What happens here, that’s between you and me.”

She watches him suspiciously for a moment after he finishes talking, then finally lets her shoulders drop, slouching in her chair in a way that would make any governess cringe. Bellamy greets it with a smile.

“Nice touch with the suit,” she says, completely non-sequitur, but he takes it in a stride. It’s fine. He knows exactly what her silence is trying to tell him. “I appreciate that. God, I’m going to have to get my clothes back. And my papers, and… I don’t even want to think about all that today.”

“Then don’t,” he tells her softly, then finally dares to reach and touch her hand. “Eat, then sleep. No offence, but you look like hell.”

“And have you seen yourself today?”

The housekeeper interrupts them before Bellamy can try to give a witty answer, and by the time they’re set up, each with their own plate, the sleepless night fully catches up with them, and they become too tired to even talk. They eat quickly in amicable silence, and when Bellamy notices Miss Reyes doze off a little over a piece of cold chicken, he simply gets up, and waits for her to nod before he lifts her off her chair.

It would be more comfortable if they could do the whole thing now – loosen her corset and get rid of some petticoats, maybe get pins out of her highly sensible hairdo. As it is, she is asleep in his arms by the time he rests her in his bed, so all he does is take off her shoes before tucking her in. One day and soon they will have to come up with a better sleeping arrangement than him curling up on the floor next to her bed, but today it has to be good enough that all he does before drifting off is he kiss her forehead, then come up to the washbasin to get rid of tiny specks of dried blood on his neck and cheek.


	5. Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven wakes up the next morning in a bedroom that isn’t hers, but the sinking, anxious feeling she has doesn’t fully settle in her stomach until she realizes that actually, as of last night, this very much is her bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long story short: I wrote chapter 5, then scrapped it almost completely, and wrote something different. I think I'm starting to get a semblance of a plot, which, almost 9k words in, is probably a good sign.

Raven wakes up the next morning in a bedroom that isn’t hers, but the sinking, anxious feeling she has doesn’t fully settle in her stomach until she realizes that actually, as of last night, this very much is her bedroom.

She can tell it’s early, judging by the silence that surrounds her, but her new husband is already out, the room bearing subtle signs of his hasty morning toilet. The shabby suit he wore for their wedding is hung out neatly on a chair, and the pitcher of water by the washbasin is only half-empty, the rest clearly left for her to use. Trouble is, right now, in the light of day, Raven doesn’t trust this kind of thoughtfulness.

The room itself is strangely ascetic, though she has no idea what else she expected. Judging by the decor, Bellamy Blake spends his evenings reading books or writing letters, but he isn’t willing to spend a penny on beauty or comfort unless he finds a practical use to it, too. He has a strangely intricate inkwell, nothing like the practical, modern one in his study, but other than that, there isn’t a single picture or knick-knack, nothing to make this space warmer. Clearly her husband either lives like a monk, or barely lives here at all.

It takes her a while to realize that he left her a note, a little damp now since he decided to put it on the washbasin, right next to the soap.

_Dear Wife,_

_Apologies for my morning disappearance. I am expecting a few quite urgent matters to attend to in my office, but saw no reason to interrupt your sleep. I am hoping, since I rushed in so early, that I will be back home by the time you wake up, so please join me in my study as soon as you are ready. There will be breakfast._

_Your devoted husband,  
B.B._

There is something about this note that puts an inexplicable knot in her stomach, something warm and something cold, true care mixed with a petty string of lies. He wrote like this to make sure, in case the note is found, that there is nothing in there that can incriminate them or expose them for fraud; in all ways that matter to the world, he _is_ her devoted husband, and he is going to make damn sure that he can easily prove that in court.

On the other hand: he didn’t really have to write to her at all.

Raven’s dress is still good enough to wear, even if the idea of wearing it again makes her skin crawl a little. Her undershirt needs a wash, and her stockings saw better days, not to mention how sore she is after sleeping in her corset, but she has nothing to change into, not even as much as a dressing gown, so she just washes her face, ignores her mess of a hairdo, and steps out of the bedroom. If she’d ever fantasized that, when she wakes up the morning after her wedding night, her body will bear marks of it, this isn’t what she imagined at all.

The study is easy to find after the merciless hours she spent there while her now husband was preparing their prenup, but even if Raven had trouble finding her way, the smell of coffee coming from that room is so strong she would be able to completely trust her nose to guide her to it.

Bellamy is sitting at his desk, a cup of coffee in one hand while the other runs over some pages scattered in front of him. He seems oblivious to the world like this, lost somewhere in his own thoughts, and it doesn’t help that he looks positively dishevelled. Raven doesn’t remember ever seeing him like this before; even in a socialist coffee house, he didn’t have a hair out of place, but here, in his own sanctuary, he is unshaven and messy, his jacket and cravat tossed carelessly on one of the chairs.

“Mr Blake?” she tries when he doesn’t acknowledge her even though she is standing right in the middle of the room, and it sounds so weak and kittenish it makes her blush with annoyance. She does feel a little bit better when he startles so much he almost spills his coffee.

“Miss…” he starts, then swallows, unsure how to address her now that he can’t consider his words carefully before putting them on paper. In the end, he just gets up from his chair, and comes up to the tray on the further side of his desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I was… I just got back, the coffee is still hot. Can I get you a scone?”

So she says yes, because the only alternative is to acknowledge that he looks boyish and flustered, and that she is surprised that she wants to ask if he even slept last night.

“What are you even doing here?” she blurts out once he brings her a plate and a cup. He sighs.

“Abusing your family’s trust.” He nods towards his desk. “That’s your father’s will. It was deposited in my office because I’m… I was your mother’s solicitor. I rushed to get it for you this morning, before she officially fired me and took it away.”

For her. Easy like that. He rushed to get it _for her_.

“You’ll be disappointed,” she says stiffly, because here it is. Here is where the other shoe drops, and he finds out beyond doubt just how broke she is. Here is where she finds out if he’s the kind of man to take that out on her. “My mother controls everything.”

To her surprise, what follows isn’t a scowl, but a soft, triumphant smile.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, from the way you were acting. But it was nagging on me that something was wrong, and I just couldn’t remember how exactly the provisions were put in place. So I rushed to the office this morning. I don’t know what your mother told you, but three quarters of your father’s fortune are yours, and the trustees are to release them to you on your marriage. Your mother controls the London house, and of course the remaining quarter, but… The rest is yours. And according to our contract, I can’t touch it, either. Miss Reyes, you are a woman of quite comfortable a fortune as of today. Granted, it will take a few weeks for the funds to be passed on to you, since you married so suddenly, but for all intents and purposes, you have a comfortable living of your own, and in my professional opinion, there is nothing your mother can do about it.”

By the time he finishes speaking, his soft smile turns into a full-blown grin, and Raven realizes he wasn’t nervous or flustered when she stepped into the study this morning; what she took for shyness was badly contained glee, and she can’t begin to understand what he is so happy about, since, as he himself said, he can’t spend a penny of that inheritance without her say-so.

“What’s in it for you?” she asks, sounding harsher than she meant to. Not that he seems too affected by her unkind tone.

“I like it when decent people win. I’m told that’s a flaw of character in my line of work,” he shoots back without hesitation, then runs his hand through his hair before busying himself with putting a scone on his own plate and buttering it. There is a nervous energy about him now, something born out of a busy mind and a lack of sleep, and Raven suddenly feels tired just looking at him.

“So what now?” she asks, eyes fixed on her still full coffee cup. She has money now. How on Earth does she have her own money?

“Now we finish breakfast, then go to Town to get you measured for a new gown. On the way, we try to figure out how to get your things from your mother’s house while causing a minimum of a scandal. Then I ask the housekeeper to draw you a bath, and let you soak while I write to your trustees asking them to release the funds. Sounds good?”

They are all respect and propriety when they go out; there is smiles, and bows, and soft words, and they don’t exactly turn heads, humble as they are, but there is an air of finality in being seen like this, a married couple for all to acknowledge. The dressmaker they go to is much less fashionable than the one Raven used to frequent with her mother, but she calls her “Mrs Blake” without a stumble like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and in the end, even the tatty brown dress doesn’t matter that much anymore. The new gown Raven orders is practical and sturdy, suited for walking rather than entertaining, and if she expects to have to fight her husband over that, she is very much disappointed. 

They see each other again for dinner after her bath, and it’s so bizarrely normal after the upheaval of the last three days that Raven can barely stop herself from looking over her shoulder. Bellamy is calm and charming, and she tries not to read tension into what he says or does, grateful for his kindness. He will go into his office as normal tomorrow morning, but he has already sent a note to Sinclair at the Reyes house, and made the man an offer of employment he can’t refuse, asking him to pack Raven’s things in a trunk, and bring them over at around lunchtime. With the money from the inheritance, she can easily afford a butler of her own, and Bellamy is happy to pay his wages until the funds come through; no one, he says, should have to live in that miserable house for a day longer than necessary.

It doesn’t hit Raven until Bellamy escorts her to his bedroom again, then says goodnight and leaves immediately to sleep in his study, that once the funds do come through, she will technically be free to set up a household completely on her own.


	6. Bauble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bellamy comes to his office the next morning, everything has this perfect air of a silence before a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one took me a while. I had anxiety.

When Bellamy comes to his office the next morning, everything has this perfect air of a silence before a storm.

Mrs Reyes, he knows, can’t exactly barge in, or yell, or do any of those things she would surely love to do to him, now that it’s public knowledge what he has done. To do so would be to hurt her own reputation as much as she’d be hurting his. It seemed inevitable yesterday, in a haze of two sleepless nights, but now that Bellamy had time to cool down, sleep, and actually set the inheritance case in motion, he is pretty sure his now-mother-in-law won’t, can’t fire him. At least not yet. Not while Miss Reyes still lives with him, at least, or else she’d be telling the world just how much she didn’t approve of this, and how little control she has over her wayward daughter. As it is, she can pretend she just did things quietly. Married the girl off to someone lowly and convenient enough that he won’t mind he is getting damaged goods. So obliging that he will provide an appropriate cover, just in case there is something growing in her belly.

His time will come, of course, he has no doubt about that. Miss Reyes will get her money, and set herself up separately from him, somewhere nice and comfortable, and once that happens, all hell will break loose on his business. Oh well. His sister is married, his mother is all set, and his business partners will have a way to cut him loose. He is pretty sure that his ill-timed heroism won’t hurt anyone but himself.

There still isn’t a good explanation for what he’s done, at least not one he is ready to say out loud, but here it is: he put his entire career on the line, all because a girl showed up on his doorstep and asked for help, and even now, when he is starting to wait for the other shoe to drop, he doesn’t regret it for a second, not even if it means he’ll go back to being poor, and cold, and bitter. 

You see, there isn’t much beauty in his life, and there never has been, but something about the fire in Raven Reyes’ when she is arguing the point that he can’t forget, and maybe that’s his contribution to keeping a few sparks of beauty in the world – to make sure that this particular fire never goes out.

So he starts putting his affairs in order over the next few days, and when he comes back home, he does all he can to make things better in the limited time he has. He might not dare to call this girl his wife, not even in his thoughts, when they both know it’s a sham, but he will do his damnest to make sure she is comfortable in his house, within the humble means that he has. Her clothes were the first thing to sort, and with that out of the way, he can start thinking of furniture. He can’t exactly buy a new bed, not a proper one, at least, but if she just keeps using his, and he moves his belongings to the study for good, that should be fine. It will leave her with a wardrobe, a desk, and a washstand, and with a bit of extra money, she can make it work. He is sure she can.

***

It takes him longer than it probably should, but a week into their marriage, this is how she finds him when she comes home in the afternoon: bent over the bed, and folding his shirts meticulously before stuffing them in a bag.

“Where are you going?” she asks in a tense voice that has him almost jumping, like a thief.

“Downstairs.” He straightens up, embarrassed, though why, he has no idea. “It’s… I’m sorry, I should’ve done this sooner. You need the space, and I just couldn’t figure out… I thought at first, you’ll be more comfortable if you move to the study and buy new furniture, but it would take ages for a proper bed to arrive, and if we’re going to carry this one downstairs, it’s easier to just empty my drawers instead. Will you be comfortable here? There is money set aside, I meant to show you today how to get to it, you can buy… I’m sorry, I should’ve probably taken care of it, but I didn’t know what you’d like, and I just…” he rambles, made nervous by his idle fingers, until Miss Reyes steps into the room, and takes a shirt out of his hands.

“So that’s your solution?” she asks angrily. “Where do you even sleep down there? Your chair? The floor?”

He shrugs.

“I put something together. It’s fine. I’ve slept worse.”

She doesn’t say anything at that, but sinks into the chair, his shirt still in her hands, and he feels suddenly self-conscious. That she is handling his underwear, that he made her climb the stairs here for the whole week, despite her leg. That this whole thing is taking him so damn long.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he goes down on his haunches in front of her. “Is it the stairs? If an upstairs bedroom is too much, all you need to do is say, and I will move the bed down. Please, Miss… Please. I know you’re just waiting for the financial matters to resolve themselves now, but I still want you to be comfortable here. And I don’t know what you need, unless you tell me.”

“My name’s not Miss Reyes,” she says stiffly. “Or have you forgotten that?”

“Of course not. I just thought… I thought you wouldn’t like to be reminded of that.”

There is a moment of silence after that, and Bellamy watches, mesmerised, as his wife fiddles with the unstarched collar of his shirt, not sure what to say next. In the end, she is the one who speaks first instead.

“You do a whole lot of thinking. Has it occurred to you to just ask me? You’re treating me like I’m some rare breed of cat or some bauble. I’m not a bauble, damn it!” She pauses, as if waiting to see if he’ll criticise her for swearing and when he doesn’t, she takes a breath and goes on. “I’ve been useless my whole life. And so have other people around me. But you’re not useless. You do things, you read, you go to court, and I… I’m tired of being useless. If you want to help me start doing something, please do, but if you’re just gonna wrap me in blankets like an expensive bauble, then get out of my way.”

Well, that’s one way to put things.

“I thought…” he starts, then catches himself and laughs, realising how stupid he has been. Of course she doesn’t want that. He met her at a political meeting, for God’s sake. Why would she have gone there, for the thrill?

“We should probably talk,” he says softly, and pulls the shirt out of her hand. “Without my underwear flying around, if possible. Would you… How should I call you? I don’t think I can manage ‘Mrs Blake’. I know that’s how your bauble people do it, but I’d feel like I’m mocking you. Especially when it’s just the two of us.”

“Raven,” she says immediately, and lets him have the shirt, but doesn’t move from the chair. “Raven is a good start.”

***

They end up having a long chat in Bellamy’s study that evening, and when Raven wakes up the next morning, she puts on a sensible dress, and steps down to the kitchen just in time to catch him buttering a scone.

She knows she will make heads turn if she turns up in her new husband’s office, ready for work, but if he isn’t bothered by her behaviour, everyone else can just get used to it. She can’t help him much, but she has a good hand and an eye for detail, so it’s a waste to not make use of it. Where Bellamy is from, Raven learned yesterday, husbands and wives toil side by side, keeping the family business aflot together. It works out just fine for her.

The next days are as boring as Bellamy warned her they’d be, but when she leaves the office in the evening with her fingers stained with ink, her feet are lighter than they’ve been in ages. She copies letters and documents in clear, elegant cursive, and after a week of just giving her things that are needed in duplicate, Bellamy starts teaching her shorthand, just here and there, between other tasks; organising folders or ironing newspapers, not to mention bossing around clerks. 

At home, they eat meals together and talk about work, then in time about books, and life, and people, and politics, and as days trickle down, Raven finally gets to know her husband, bit by bit, a clever word here, a soft laugh there. Bellamy Blake is shy, quiet, and gentle, but there is a core to him that’s made of steel. He picks his battles carefully, and where he has no interest in the outcome, he gives way with incredible ease, but if something he cares about deeply is at stake, he will fight tooth and nail, no effort spared; just the way he fought for her.

He gets easier around her as days go by, and soon he is able to call her “Raven” without that little choking sound at the start he thought she couldn’t hear. After that time she surprised him in his study, he is careful not to let her see him in just trousers and a shirt, but despite the formality of his dress, he grows warmer with her by the day.

He grows warmer, and easier, and softer, and if it starts bothering her a little that every night, he disappears behind the study door after bidding her good night, she says nothing about it at all.


End file.
